


Frostbitten

by myaekingheart



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 01:49:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15304755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myaekingheart/pseuds/myaekingheart
Summary: Frustration. That’s the only way to describe this. They know I’m not a liar, yet why do they find it so hard to believe me? Love is real, you can’t fake it. Yet when you love someone nobody believes exist, how can you hold on and power through when that theory’s seeping into your mind, too?(Originally written 2013)





	1. Prologue

Beneath a sweltering summer sun, chlorinated water glistened aqua like a clear gem. Gushing waves formed as I kicked my tiny legs like a propellor, grinning as I sipped the sweet tartness of my icy lemonade. With anticipation, I constantly turned to pester my lounging mother as she thumbed through an old magazine, it’s cover tainted with water stains.  
“When’s Liz getting here?”, I bothered. The sunshine illuminated my mom’s beautiful face as she smiled and replied with a sighed “Soon, sweetheart”. Defeated, I turned back around to stare longingly at the pool water. How it glistened, shimmered, moved in the summer breeze taunted me to come closer, though I knew better due to my lack of swimming ability. It whispered my name like a ghost in the night, it’s looming shadows drawing me close.  
With a slam, the glass doors to the backyard swung open and standing there on the threshold was a lanky girl of eleven with a graphic towel slung over her arm, trendy sunglasses sitting atop her head. With a toothy grin, she called my name, shaking me from my illusions, and joy dispersed itself like a bursting water balloon. With great enthusiasm, I jumped from my spot at the edge of the pool and ran for her, but fate had other plans.  
With a slip of the slick deck, my small frame went flying through the air, landing with a splash into the deep center of the above-ground pool. My eyes stung with chlorine as my heart rate increased, panic ensuing. Everything was blurry and blue and blank. Sense of direction was suddenly fading from my mind and my lungs, having not sucked enough air before penetrating the water’s surface, burned with desire for sweet oxygen. The shadows near the pool’s wall began looming closer as I sunk deeper and deeper down, fingers licking at my wrinkled toes. My attempts at padding upwards were to no avail, an invisible anchor weighing me down. The sunlight seemed but a distant memory.  
Black spots appeared before my eyes as I began allowing water to seep through my nose, quickly making peace with the idea of death. From the sea of ebony orbs, though, came a great pair of electric blue eyes suddenly flashing in front of me, full of hope and safety. Surely it must have been an angel coming to escort me to heaven. The warm water grew cool in the eyes presence, wrapping me in a refreshing blanket. “You’re gonna be alright, I promise. You’re gonna be fine”, a comforting voice echoed towards me as the eyes suddenly zoomed out. Then I realized they weren’t just eyes but a face, then a head, then a body, a boy suspended there in the deep azure. He was tall and thin, his skin and hair pale as freshly fallen snow. Though his presence ought to have frightened me, it did quite the opposite. His kind eyes eagerly assured me that I’d be alright and, magnetized towards him, I began reaching out for his grasp. My fingers were just in reach when….  
“Amanda!”  
A strong grasp tore me from my underwater realm, sunlight exploding as I hacked on water. Bright, blurry shapes moved above me as I felt my head prop against someone’s lap. A few bouts of pressure upon my chest prompted me to cough up what little liquid flooded my lungs and teary eyes began to center as my vision came to.  
“Oh, thank God you’re alright!”, my mother shouted between sobs as she leant down to hug my loosely. Liz giggled lightly behind a tear-stained mask. With wide eyes, I looked around at the world, suddenly unfamiliar and strange compared to the pool’s water. Lifting me up from my place, Liz helped to wrap me in her towel, a mother’s embrace carrying me into the harsh light of our home and straight into my bed. As I was transported back into my crafty childhood house, though, I couldn’t help but look back longingly at the pool, curious to see once more the boy from under the water…


	2. 1

“And don’t forget, Sophie’s bedtime is seven thirty. Read her a fairytale– she likes the one about the fairies– and then tuck her in. Don’t forget her nightlight. Jamie goes to bed at–”  
“Eight thirty. Nightlight and don’t forget the snack a half hour before. Graham crackers, clean up the crumbs. Don’t worry, Mrs. Bennett. I know the reigns”, I reassured the worried mother, leaning against the doorway. The sun was just setting as Eleanor Bennett descended from her front steps, straddled with luggage and hopes to help her sister with her newborn son. A light snow fell steadily from the heavens and as the Bennett family car disappeared down the street, I couldn’t help but look up in amazement at the little ivory flakes gently floating along the breeze.  
“Jack Frost did a good job this year, huh?”, a small voice rang from behind me. Taken aback, I jumped from my place and turned to see Jamie standing there, a broken smile as his bottom tooth’s spot lay vacant.  
With a smile, I responded, “I guess so. So you think Jack really exists, huh?”. Jack Frost. Such a funny little myth. I always enjoyed the Rankin Bass special they showed each year but hadn’t really believed in such a thing since ninth grade, the year when reality slapped me in the face and offered a bitter taste of adulthood. Jamie nodded vigorously at my question, explaining that he had met him two Easters before and went on a fantastic adventure. Sweet little Sophie chimed in as well, saying that she met the Easter bunny and assisted him in his egg painting. As much as I enjoyed their little imagination charade, what amused me more was how imaginative they truly were. Jack Frost and the Easter bunny. Such childhood fantasies. If only I could still believe of their existence.  
The night flew by rapidly, escorting two sleepy children up to bed after a mild game of Candyland as a Disney movie flickered upon the TV screen. As long as neither of them stirred in their sleep, the rest of the night was mine. Curling up in a quilt on the couch, I gingerly switched on every light on the ground floor, the dark loneliness still instilling fright in me despite being almost seventeen years old, and flipped to a marathon of Friends reruns as I scrolled through status updates on my cell phone.  
The snow had grown heavier with the deepening of night, intricate frost designs skating across the spotless windows. Leaning closer, I smiled at their delicate beauty, identifying one to strangely resemble a school of tropical fish. Flashbacks of that summer day I had tried so hard to forget throughout the years came flooding back, closing my eyes as those of electric blue flashed before me again, the pale boy floating beneath the surface, the kind voice reassuring me. Blinking my eyes open, I gasped with shock as glowing blue fish began swimming into the atmosphere around me. Surely I must be dreaming, I thought to myself as I cautiously reached out to touch one of the fish. The disturbance caused it’s frame to ripple like the tapped surface of a lake, dispersing a cool electricity much like that which charged the eyes of the boy from under the water, though it ceased to disrupt it’s path. “Impressed yet?”, a familiar voice called, though when I turned, not a single soul stood there.  
“Jamie?!”, I shouted. Reaching behind me, I searched for anything worthy of use as a weapon in case I needed to defend myself against a burglar but instead caught hold of something different, human, cold. Gasping, I jerked around, shocked as I was face to face with those same electric blue eyes.


	3. 2

Startled by the stranger’s sudden presence, I dove for the first item of defense I could find. Satisfied in finding an aged lighter grasped in my fingers, I quickly ignited the flame and helt it out towards the intruder.  
“Who are you and how did you get in here?”, I pressed, stammering in my attempts to sound braver.  
“Whoa, Whoa! I’m not gonna hurt you!”, the boy replied with his hands up in surrender, cautiously eyeing the flame. The orange glow of the fire gave strong contrast to his cool features and, despite my anger towards his assumed purpose, he was quite attractive. His frosty white hair was haphazardly styled, framing his youthful face, as his thin lips turned up into a mischievous smirk. His dark blue hoodie was ornamented with frost seeping from all the openings– sleeves, pocket, hood– accompanied with aged brown pants, his feet bare despite the chilling weather. And those eyes– those familiar, energized pools of pulsing electricity. They couldn’t be real. “You’re gonna be alright, I promise. You’re gonna be fine”  
Those words sent an abrupt shudder down my spine, my numb fingers losing grip on the lighter as it fell to the floor, a delicate layer of frost decorated the tile. “Who are you?”, I mumbled quietly, my heart rate quickening. The boy came closer and uncomfortable as the lessening space between us made me, I couldn’t muster the strength to stop him.  
“Jack Frost”. With that name, my head snapped up from it’s fixed gaze on my striped socks, staring at him as his face was inches from mine.  
“B-But that’s impossible. Jack Frost doesn’t exist”, I replied, my voice an ant in an acre-size meadow. My answer must have amused him, though, for he lightly chuckled, hopping up onto the couch and casually strolling across the back.  
With an all-knowing smirk on his face, he asked, “If you don’t believe in Jack Frost, then how can you see me?”. Suddenly growing frustrated with such a childish charade, anger rose in my throat, my face burning crimson, my fists tightly clenching.  
“Because, you’re not Jack Frost!”, I erupted. “I don’t know who you are but if you don’t leave, I’m contacting the police! I can have them here in under five minutes to arrest you, you mental patient!”. This boy was unintelligently toying with my emotions, a rookie mistake only fools make.  
With that same mischievous smirk on his face, he stated bluntly, “Try me”.  
Suspiciously watching him, I snatched my cell phone and dialed 911, explaining of the intruder in my house. With the dispatcher understanding, she immediately sent out police to investigate the proclaimed crime. In just moments, the trusty law enforcement pulled up, the street illuminated in bright blue and vermillion, two officers burst through the front door, guns at the ready.  
“Come out with your hands up!”, they shouted, sneaking down the hallway.  
Satisfied with my work of defense, my small frame curled up beneath a coffee table, whispering to the boy, “Good luck in prison, snowflake!”, before the officers entered the room. Slamming the light switch, the blinding white light bursted from the ceiling, everything shining in the harsh fluorescent light. The police were tense at first, searching the room for any burglar, but then slouched in discontent after a few moments.  
“There’s no one here”


	4. 3

Fury ignited in my veins, my face burning red as I angrily paced the living room floor, my arms crossed tightly across my chest.  
“I can’t believe you! I CANNOT believe you! I don’t know what kind of sick trick you’re trying to pull, but now I have a criminal record of prank calling the police! If you’re as magical as you claim you are, you better pull some money out of your ass to pay my fine”, I shouted, my voice trembling with frustration.  
“Whoa, chill!”, he responded, gingerly laying a hand on my shoulder. They were so cold. Shuddering, I smacked it away from me, turning to him with fire in my eyes.  
“Who are you? Where did you come from? And why did you just so happen to choose me as your little victim to your immature game?”, I questioned, circling him.  
With a sigh, he said back “I already told you, my name is Jack Frost. You don’t seem to remember things very well, do you?”. Rolling my eyes at his little remark, I pressed on.  
“I remember things fine! It’s just believing crazed hellions I lack skill in. Why are you so convinced that you’re some fancy prance-y wintry mascot?”  
Scoffing at my description, he exclaimed, “Hey! It was a phase, alright! That cheesy kinda stuff was in back then. I’m more of a roll-with-the-times kinda guy, alright? And I’m telling the truth!”. With that, he quickly turned me to face him, his hands grasping my shoulders, as he leaned down to stare into my eyes, just centimeters away from me. “I am Jack Frost”. His eyes….that magnificent blue…that frigid body…my mind was seized with memories all flooding back, a mental tsunami. Breathing was suddenly a foreign concept.  
In the midst of all this nonsense, I ceased to realize that Jamie had woken from his slumber, rubbing his eyes standing halfway down the stairs. “Amanda? What happened? Why were the police in our yard?”  
Gasping for air (and words), I choked out, “Visitor”. As soon as he was more awake, Jamie suddenly realized the presence of this so called Jack Frost, gasping his name with a wide grin as he bounded down the stairs.  
“Hey, kiddo!”, the alleged mental patient smiled as he wrapped Jamie in a big hug. The exchange sent a discomforting tingle down my spine.  
“You know each other?”, I interrogated suspiciously. Jamie nodded and, pulling the teenager towards me by the wrist, he replied:  
“This is my friend, the one I was telling you about who helped save Easter. Amanda, I’d like you to meet Jack Frost”. My eyes widened. How did Jamie know this kid, and about his little roleplaying charade that had gone a little too far? Jack just smirked, an “I told you so” look painting his face. I scoffed, then turned to Jamie for explanation, who just grinned in delight when he realized I could see his friend. “I thought you said you didn’t believe in Jack Frost, though!”, he shouted excitedly.  
“I don’t”, I replied, darting a sinister glance at Jack, who just chuckled. Why was my frustration so amusing to him? Jamie tilted his head in confusion at my response, then looked to his friend for explanation.  
“Amanda’s an old friend of mine”, Jack replied. Now this caught my attention. My head snapped up from it’s fixed gaze on the floor. Jack took a seat on the arm of the couch, twirling a large shepherd’s crook in his hands as he told, “You see, one day Amanda was in trouble– she was about four and fell in the pool. Almost drowned, actually. That is, of course, until your sister pulled you up from the bottom and saved you”. Then it finally clicked.  
“Wait, why did you–? How did you–? You were? And you saw–? And?”, I stammered in shock. Jack just nodded, his eyes fixed on his twirling staff. Suddenly desperate for answers, I reached out to steal the little toy away from him and looked him dead in the eyes. “How did you know about that?”.  
With genuine honesty, the teenager in front of me looked up into my eyes and replied with “Because I’m Jack Frost, and I’m a Guardian”.  
Turning to Jamie for clarification, he just nodded and explained that Guardians were all of those fantastical childhood characters we had heard so many stories about time and time again. They all vowed to protect the children of the world, whether or naughty or nice, from danger like the Boogeyman.  
“But if you’re Jack Frost, why were you out and about in the summertime?”, I questioned. Jack opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by the flickering of lights and a low, ominous whine erupting from nowhere…


	5. 4

A shock of panic rang through as the lights fluttered thrice, then enveloped us in an ominous darkness only illuminated by a great, full moon. The whine was steadily increasing into a great cacophony of drums. “What is that?”, I breathed, barely a whisper which escaped my mouth. Turning to Jack, I saw his eyes were wide with discomfort as well. He sat there staring dumbly for a moment, then suddenly, as if someone switched on a power button, he abruptly scooped me up from my place, uprooting my feet from their place on the cool tile, and darted out into the frigid winter.  
The air was much cooler in the midnight hours, a shock of icy wind chilling me through to my thin t-shirt. This numbness disintegrated the words from my mouth, though a crimson flag rose in my mind. Where the hell was he taking me? Didn’t he know I couldn’t leave the house when there were twelve- and four-year old kids there? Horrific scenarios began flooding my brain, my distrust to this boy growing with each step he took me. Kidnap, manslaughter, rape. The silent worries were endless. “Keep an eye on Sophie! I’ll have North stop and pick you both up as soon as I see him! Stay safe!”, Jack shouted behind him as he sprinted off into the darkness. Terrified, I writhed in his grasp in hopes of breaking free, of darting back into the safety of the Bennett house, but his hold was so strong I could barely shift in the embrace of his arm. He brought me through forest cluttered with overgrowth, weaving gracefully through the trees until we reached a clearing. The frozen lake. Though the snowfall had been fairly heavy, the ice of the lake was seemingly thin, and surely I thought this was my way to death. This boy would throw me across the ice, my weight would cause a crack which I would then fall through, and hypothermia would blanket me in death. Though fate, like always, had other plans. “Hold on to me tight!” the boy shouted, as if I was at a great distance from him, as he ran right up to the very edge of the lake. Then, quickly lifting his staff, he rocketed up into the air, a grand gust pushing us forward. I tightened my grip about his neck and wrapped my legs about his left one as he soared higher and higher, a lump rising in my throat as my stomach began lagging behind. I hated flying. I hated heights. I couldn’t even ride an airplane without sedatives to numb the anxiety. I forced back the blockage building in my throat, encouraging me to throw up, and deeply inhaled the pure winter oxygen in hopes it would act as an antacid. No avail.  
A cold sweat began trickling down my spine, my clammy hands losing traction about Jack’s neck. Sensing the tension in my muscles, he turned to see my flushed face, my eyes scrunched shut, my chest rapidly rising and falling with hyperventilation. “You alright?”, he asked over the roar of the wind. I couldn’t find the courage nor strength to shake my head no, or lie and nod yes. “You’re not gonna puke, are you?”, he asked next. Again, I found no strength to reply, which must’ve given him answer enough. Wrapping a frozen arm about my back, he pulled me close into him until my face was buried in his chest, lifting my legs in his arm so as to carry me bridal style. I breathed in the aroma of his sweater, scented of pure snow and pine trees and what I thought smelled faintly like spearmint, and the hints of menthol-esque fragrance sent a calming sensation through my throat down to my stomach and, though it didn’t completely eradicate my unease, I felt my muscles relax slightly as I lost myself in the soft, cold fabric of his shirt. Inhaling the smell, I felt my eyes grow heavy with exhaustion, a yawn escaping my lips. I swore I felt the gentle stroke of cool lips brush across my forehead, but just as I did, a comforting blackness, the gateway to dreams, encumbered me in a deep sleep.  
❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆  
Warmth enveloped me as I floated about the inky darkness behind my eyelids. The sound of saws and hammers and screwdrivers, though, reached my ears and wrestled me from slumber. Fluttering my eyes open slowly, I was met with the bright light of morning, and an unfamiliar setting. The high walls of the room were of dark wood, reaching up to a looming ceiling which seemed to have no distinct end. The wall to my left was graced with a ginormous window in which the steadily falling snow was visible. The faint aroma of sugar cookies and wood shavings reached my nose, two scents I hadn’t smelled since I was a toddler in our old house with the pool, where my dad crafted wooden dog feeders and my mom created delicious holiday treats, and the room was lighted only by a small, outdated kerosene lamp that there really wasn’t much need for. As lonesome anxiety began distributing itself across my body, I tried to wrestle myself from the cacoon of plush, plaid blankets swaddling me, terrified that I was alone in a strange place.  
“Hey, hey, calm down, you’re alright”, a familiar voice said quietly, reassuringly, from my right side. Turning, I saw none other than Jack casually sitting there in a large armchair, his staff leaning against the wall behind him.  
“Where am I?”, I croaked, suddenly realizing how dry and scratchy my throat was. Hearing the state of my voice, Jack reached over to the nightstand beside the grand canopy bed I was nestled in and handed me a steaming, maroon mug.  
“I brought you to Santa’s workshop”, he replied. My eyes widened. Santa’s workshop? Really? It sounded like some sort of cheesy, over-decorated holiday thing you’d find in the mall, teeming with white fluff and less-than-enthusiastic “elves”. Despite this image, the room I was currently in looked nothing like what I’d pictured. “Here, let me show you”, Jack continued, extending his hand. Gathering up a few of the blankets and my mug, which I discovered was filled with the most delicious hot chocolate to ever pass my lips, I placed my hand in his as he led me out the door. The vision took my breath away. The hallway was a balcony in which the floor below was overhwelmed with sights of giant beasts constructing and painting toys, airplanes and sailboats soaring through the sky and circling a giant globe in the center of the room. It was like a storybook come to life. I was speechless.  
“There she is!”, a deep, intimidating voice erupted from behind us. Turning in unison, Jack and I spied a tall, broad-shouldered man, his hair almost as white as Jack’s with a beard to match. Santa Claus. “Nice to see someone is awake, yes? Hope Jack kept you good company”, he continued, winking at the end of his sentence. “Come, the other Guardians are waiting”. And with that, North led us down a flight of stairs (which I proceeded in stumbling on a few times, only to find Jack steadying me when I did so) until we reached the bottom and then there they stood. The Guardians.  
At the sound of North’s grand footsteps, they all turned to face us; The Easter Bunny, The Tooth Fairy, and Sandman, all more fantastically beautiful than I ever imagined them to be. North led me towards them, Jack hanging by as he did so, and introduced me to each one by one. First was the Easter Bunny, Bunnymund he was called. He was tall and lean, covered in soft, gray fur. He spoke casually with an Australian accent, and seemed to have remembered me from Easter’s past. Next was the Tooth Fairy, a cheery and breathtaking creature of indescribable beauty. Her curvy figure was covered in glistening blue feathers, her violet eyes dilated with excitement as she fluttered about me, always moving. She seemed excited to see me, but voice was strained with undertones of skepticism, possibly from my horrible dentail hygiene record as a kid. Last came the Sandman, an adorably small and plump man dressed in a suit made of sand. The silent Sandman gave a sweet smile and waved politely, flashing a warm message above his head that, despite it’s speed, I surprisingly was able to understand. It wasn’t until after our mutual greetings that I realized how underdressed I felt I was, my fading white t-shirt dappled with stains and a tear running down the side of my pajama pants. Taking notice of my self-consciousness, North instructed Tooth to lead me up to the spare room in which I awoke and help me find something to wear. Skating forward, she motioned me to follow her and lead me back up the stairs.  
“This place is just spectacular, isn’t it?”, I finally said, attempting to break the awkward silence between us. She just nodded, filing through a cedar wardrobe in search of something that would fit my small, delicate frame. I wasn’t quite sure why but she seemed so distrusting of me, like I was secretly an enemy spy or something. A great pile of clothes soon seemed to create itself on the end of the bed as Tooth searched and searched for something that wouldn’t hang off my body like an oversized blanket, but to no avail.  
“Well, there seems to be nothing of your size here. The only thing remotely close might be this blouse but then again, it’s still quite large for your frame”, she said. Her voice was cool and collected, though I could sense the tension beneath it.  
“Alright”, I responded. “I’ll take a look and see what I can do with it. Probably nothing a little fixing up couldn’t do, right?”. I tried to sound breezy in my reply though my words got caught in my throat. Tooth just nodded and fluttered out of the room, the veil of energized tension instantly dropping as she left. Why was she suspicious of me? It wasn’t like I did anything wrong. Thumbing through the various items piled upon each other on the bedspread, I selected a few that looked like they might be of use and then scoured the room for scissors and a needle and thread. Once I found what I needed, I set up a station on the floor and got to work.  
Tying a crimson sash about my waist to keep my baggy pants from falling down, I quickly plaited two messy pigtails and pinned them in two loops at the side of my head before bounding back down the stairs to find the others. It had only taken me an hour to complete my new ensemble but I was quite proud of it, mentally praising my grandmom for teaching me to sew. The ivory peasant blouse was tucked into my deep blue parachute pants, that crimson sash acting as my belt. I had fished out an old pair of boots from beneath the canopy bed and tied laces about their body so their grasp about my thin legs was more snug than before. The clothes smelled of mothballs and cedar from being stored in the wardrobe for so long but I never felt happier than I did in that moment. Hearing the faint chatter of conversation, I followed the noise to the control center of the giant globe, peering in to find not conversation, but debate amongst the Guardians.  
“North, we can’t stop what we’re doing for one girl. There’s a billion other children in the world who need to be protected just as much”, Tooth explained, occasionally commanding one of her many small fairies to fly off to another part of the world, I guess to collect lost teeth.  
“I agree, mate. She’s in just as much danger as the rest of them”, Bunnymund agreed.  
“Yeah, but that’s not true. Pitch has been targeting her, specifically, since she was a kid and it’s only going to get worse as she gets older. I would know. I heard an army of Nightmares coming for her back at Jamie’s house. She’s not safe”, Jack defended. A sudden tingling sensation suddenly flowed across my stomach like a wave at high tide. Pitch? What were they talking about? And what significance did it have to that drumming noise from earlier? And what was this army Jack spoke of? An overwhelming amount of questions began flooding my brain.  
“But why would Pitch be targeting her specifically? What makes her so special?”, Tooth asked, the last question coming out a little more strong-willed than she would’ve hoped it to. North shook his head.  
“I do not know why Pitch wants her so badly. But I’m going to find out. But until then, we need to keep her under surveillance as much as possible. Pitch could be lurking anywhere; we don’t want him capturing her if she’s got something special”, North explained. My stomach twisted into a pretzel knot at the word “capture”, anxiety and worst-case-scenarios presenting themselves. So I was being hunted. Peering back past the wall, I saw Jack step up.  
“Well, I won’t let anything happen to her. Even if I have to fight Pitch single-handedly”.


	6. 5

He wasn’t going to let anything happen to me. This boy, who I’d really only known for a few hours, had just pledged to protect me no matter what. In front of his friends, no less. Grasping my stomach tight as I listened, a fluttering sensation washed across my abdomen at his words, my heart rate quickening. Somehow I knew he’d keep his promise. The boy from under the water.  
Suddenly noticing my presence, Bunnymund bounded towards me and pulled me from my hiding spot, announcing his discovery of the “earwig”, whatever that meant. Mixed expressions all around. Bunny was proud to have scoped out the spy while Tooth’s eyes were wide with an unreadable expression. North and Sandy just kind of looked to me, then to each other, then back to myself, while Jack’s face blushed as he rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes from mine. He was obviously embarassed I’d heard his vow. I didn’t care.  
Lunch was a silent affair. We all filed through a grand pair of double cedar doors and into a great hall with a beautiful wooden chandelier suspended from another indinstictive ceiling. A long table ran down from one end of the hall to the other, the dark wood of the chairs dipping and scooping it’s crimson cushioned seats. Tooth and North so modestly assisted two Yetis, whose names I learned were Phil and Ed, with setting the table and placing out the food. A steaming cauldron was hung on an iron hook about the fireplace at the far end of the room, an assembly line of filled bowls rounding the table. Once everything was set, we dined in the noontime quiet. Beef potpies, rich and piping hot, sat in small pans next to saucers for sourdough bread drowned in soft butter. Though the meal was fantastic, it’s modesty filled with me a great homesickness, reminding me of dinners with my parents when I was younger. Insanity that in a rustic place as beautiful as this, I wanted to go home. I willed away the thought.  
As we finished eating, North stood and spoke the first words said in what felt like an eternity. “Well, I am taking the sleigh to go retrieve Jamie and the small one. I will be back!”. And with that, he turned and departed.  
Rising from our seats in unison, Tooth assisted Phil and Ed with cleaning up, insisting that nobody else needed to help, that they could handle by themselves. Guilt rose in me for unknown reasons. Tooth was so beautiful, with her feathers mimicking that of a cerulean macaw and her face bright and youthful and flawless. She was the epitomy of perfection. I was a sparrow compared to her.  
I awkwardly started down the hallway towards the spare room I began feeling comfortable claiming as mine, sunlight pouring in from skylights high in the beamed ceiling. I couldn’t stop thinking of Jack, his body, his words. His promise. A promise to his friends, to me, to the world. Though I’d known him all my life, it felt like we were just beginning, acquaintances stumbling into each other’s lives.  
The hallway was endless. With each step I felt as if the stairway extended ten feet further. “Maybe I’m just tired. After all, I have had a big day”, I concluded to myself, though I knew this wasn’t true. Something was wrong. The sunlight began fading away, as if a great black cloud had blocked it from view. A light breeze of humid air encircled me, stopping me dead in my tracks.  
“Yes, tired….you’re just tired” a voice hissed in the dark. Unease settled in my stomach like molten lead as I felt for the wall. It was now completely dark. A strange substance began welling up from the ground, shackling my feet in place as my hands searched, though they found nothing. And then suddenly– BOOM.  
The ground disappeared from underneath my feet, sending my spiraling down into black nothingness, an ebony abyss. I flailed, screaming, as imaginary tendrils of hell began licking at my limbs. Then thud. The bite of the hard ground beneath me. Raindrops.  
I winced as my small frame connected with the earth, mud only providing a minute cushion from the hard-packed soil. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. The humid gusts began again.  
Crack. The harsh whip of a lightning bolt illuminated the sky and for only a moment I swore I saw a black figure flash within the ominous sky, a long-fingered ghost. Forcing myself up off the ground, I blindly reached out in search of something to grasp until misty clouds revealed a bright moon against a backdrop of onyx. In my panic, my words tangled themselves in my throat, sobs created a blockade. As my tears, undistinguishable in the storm, rolled down my rosy cheeks, only one word broke through. Jack.  
“Jack! Jack, please! Help me! Someone! Please!”, I wailed, my fingers grasping for a tree trunk behind me. My heart rate quickened. Rustling.  
With wide eyes, I scanned the treeline for it’s source. Nothing. A tingle ran up my spine, a nightmare very similar to this suddenly resurfacing. I remembered the end of that nightmare. I was murdered, slaughtered to shreds, my disassembled body left to rot in the typhoon. A lump rose in my throat.  
“No need to be afraid, Amanda”, a familar voice stated in a mechanical tone. I jerked at the sudden sound, Jack standing there in the brush, that crooked smile on his face. I sighed with relief at the sight of him and darted into his arms, stumbling over rocks and roots emerging from the wet earth. Wrapping my arms about him, there was something different, unusual, about this hug. He stood rigid in my grasp. Bewildered, I looked up at him, gasping in horror.  
His face. That smirk still plastered on his face. And his eyes, a cloudy blue, as if someone unplugged whatever electrified them before.  
“J-Jack?”, I stammered, staggering backwards. This was not Jack. It couldn’t be. Hyperventilating, I started off in a run but his strong grasp prevented me from escaping. Writhing in his hold, I looked up to see a strange black mist envelope Jack, transforming him. And then he changed. Jack no longer stood there, terrifyingly robotic. Instead there was a girl, tall and curvy, locks of long, ebony hair falling in her face and golden eyes, her face epoxied into a villainous smirk.  
“‘Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice’”, she recited, her voice deep, raspy, sultry. “Fantastic poem. Robert Frost, isn’t it? What a grand little pun”. Her strong grasp pulled me closer. Her breath smelled of jasmine and whisky. A pale, bony hand, long black fingernails, grasped my neck, guiding me to her face. Her burning, colorless cheek pressed against mine as she whispered in a low voice, “After all, that is all what it comes down to, isn’t it? Fire…and ice. 'From what I’ve tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire’. You should put great thought into whose side you choose. Mine…or his”. And with that, I felt her other arm raise high above my head, angled towards my back, and then gave a sudden yelp as I felt a cold blade of steel pierce the skin of my back, the darkness bursting into a kaleidoscope of color, then a blinding white light, and then….  
“Amanda! Amanda! Come on, wake up! Please!”  
A pleading voice, penetrating the numb blackness. Colors danced from beneath my lids. Painfully, I blinked my eyes open, the brightness of the long-forgotten sun blinding my eyes. Blurry shapes clarified into figures, details growing more and more apparent as I felt a cold touch on my forehead. Four pairs of eyes stared down at me.  
“Crikey, we thought we’d lost you there for a minute”, Bunnymund said, scratching behind his ear with a long back paw.  
“What happened?”, I croaked, dizzy and a tad queasy as I tried to sit up. Remorse painted Tooth’s face as she stared down at me with concern, one hand lightly touching her bottom lip.  
“You passed out”, she said quietly. So I passed out then. Did that mean that the storm, the faux Jack, the girl with the dagger, everything, was just a dream? A comatose mirage? It wasn’t until then that I realized Jack had me in his lap, the cold touch calming my forehead was his hand. I felt the urge to jolt backwards in his touch, though couldn’t muster the strength the move. His eyes were pulsing with that familiar electricity again. He must have sensed fear in my eyes for he leaned down, his face inches from mine, and asked in a gentle voice filled with concern, “What did you see?”

❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆

It wasn’t long before North returned to the Pole, Jamie and Sophie following him inside with eyes full of wonder. A ginormous grin spread across Sophie’s face as she spotted Bunnymund, stumbling towards him to wrap her tiny arms around his leg, erupting with giggles.  
“I hope I did not miss much while I was gone”, North exclaimed, throwing his coat atop one of the Yetis, whose expression was all straight lines and distant frustration as he blindly headed up to North’s office.  
“Actually, you kind of did”, Jack said in a tone of all seriousness as he wrapped an arm around a joyful Jamie. The boy looked up at his idol with curiosity as North’s face grew serious.  
“Phil, keep an eye on the malyshey”, he said in his booming Russian accent as he headed straight towards the giant globe dominating the workshop. Automatically, we all followed. Jack kept his arm around me at all times, seeing as I was still “weak as a wet whistle”, as Bunny had said. I felt a pair of large, violet eyes on me as we went.  
“North, we have reason to believe Pitch is back. And this time he’s not alone”, Tooth replied, fluttering around to face him. My stomach churned at the name. “Pitch” had much more meaning to me now than it did only a few hours earlier.  
“We found Amanda on the floor after we ate, unconscious. It took her fifteen minutes to come around and she’s still feeble but I think you ought to hear what she says she saw”, Jack explained, helping me to sit down in a large armchair nearby one of the pillars. My body felt weighted down, exhausted and fragile. All eyes were on me. I choked out the story as quick as I could, still trying to include as many details.  
Once I finished, North just nodded absentmindedly, his arms crossed about his chest, and a wave of knowledge hit us all at once.  
“Pitch has grown stronger. We must keep on our guard at all times”, he stated. Then his eyes drifted to Jack as he conclusively said, “And don’t let her out of your sight”.  
Jack nodded, thoroughly aware of his responsible, and as he placed a frigid hand upon my bare shoulder (for the wide collar of blouse had fallen to strain towards my elbow), replied with his promise. A promise I knew he’d keep. Like he said before, he wasn’t going to let anything happen to me. Even if he had to fight Pitch single-handedly. And as the assembly, given their mission, began to disperse, that tingly sensation returned to my abdomen, stronger than ever.


	7. 6

Inhale. A light winter breeze misted my cheeks. Refreshment. With a plaid blanket wrapped loosely about my shoulders, I stared out at the vast scenery, so wide and blank. So full of opportunity. Such sweet freedom. My mind was in another state, though. Ebony fingers licked at my mind as I pondered about what Pitch wanted with me, why he was after me, who the woman in my dream was. An uneasiness spread across my chest as I thought of her.  
“Pretty cool place, huh?”, a voice said from behind, and I instantly recognized it as Jack’s. Jerking around startled, I saw him leaning there in the doorway, a smirk spread across his face.  
Absentmindedly, I replied, “Hmm? Oh, oh yeah. It’s gorgeous”. My eyes drifted back to the winter wasteland before me. Jack approached, climbing up onto the balcony’s railing and sitting beside me. Suddenly snapping my head back up at him, I quickly questioned, “Hey, what’s your deal, anyways?”  
“What do you mean?”, he asked back, turning to face me with a puzzled expression.  
“What’s your deal? Why are you so nice to me? I did call the cops on you, after all. And made false accusations. And I probably wasn’t very cooperative when you were trying to save me”, I elaborated. His face was suddenly tinged with red as he rubbed the back of his neck, a habit I was noticing as a trademark with him, as he searched for the right words to form an explanation. Peering up at him curiously, I patiently awaited an answer. Then he finally opened his mouth.  
“Well, you see–”  
“Jack! Come quickly. We need you”, a tinkling voice erupted from behind us, filled with urgency. We both turned in unison to find Tooth hovering over the threshold, her lavender eyes bright with panic. Jack must’ve known the predicament immediately, for he gave me a look of apology, then turned to dart after Tooth towards the other Guardians. Curiosity overwhelming me, I disobediently followed.  
“Why so protective, North? I just want a glimpse of the girl”, a mysterious, dark voice said from amongst the assembly. A deathly chill coasted down my spine. Fear. Just like in that dream.  
Fight or flight. The sudden instinct kicked in. As I took a deep breath, I brought my blanket up over my head like the hood of cloak and peered forward. A gasp.  
An ominous figure, like a living shadow, menacingly pacing about the circle of Guardians. His black hair was spiked backward like a blast of cool air has blown it that way, and his features were all sharp, symmetrical, simply chiseled. His eyes, set underneath invisible brows, were a startling gold.  
“She’s not yours for the taking”, North replied in a fiercely calm tone, his eyes heavily concentrated on the Boogeyman.  
“Oh? Then what if I wanted to, say, purchase her?”, the ghostly being proposed.  
“She’s not some broken doll that you can just buy!”, Jack growled, a more concentrated layer of frost gathering on his staff as he tightened his grip. Just as he did so, I felt my blanket slip from around my neck, landing with a delicate thud onto the wood floor. And landed right atop one of North’s bumbling little elves. In panic, I dove back behind the wall as the elf fumbled for an exit, the violent jingling of his bell only slightly muffled by the quilt’s fabric. Enough noise to attract attention. I wasn’t fast enough.  
Pitch had fast reflexes. He must be able to see everything. Turning, a sly smile crossed his face as he strode towards me. “Speaking of our little broken doll…”. I could hear his footsteps, smooth and rhythmic, approaching. Closer, closer. My heart pounded against my rib cage. A thin vine of black sand snaked it’s way around the corner towards me, spiraling up my arm so as to shackle me and force me toward’s the Nightmare King. I daren’t look into his eyes. A flash of white.  
“Get away from her!”, Jack growled, protectively standing before me, staff out in defense. Suddenly Pitch’s hard face softened in a look of mock awe.  
“Oh, this is precious! Does our little winter guardian have a crush? On the prey?”, he exclaimed, Jack scowling at him as Pitch circled us.  
“I’m not afraid of you!”, I spat out, my voice wavering. My mouth was suddenly like it’s own being, completely out of control of my mind. This seemed to bring Pitch even more amusement.  
“How brave we are, aren’t we, little China doll? And a feisty one, at that. Too bad you didn’t show such spark in that little nightmare of yours”, he hissed.  
“So it was you!”, Bunnymund growled in response, the hair on his back bristling upwards. Pitch turned to face the Pookah, pride painting his face.  
“Of course. Who else would be behind such a fantastic horror?”  
“Why do you want her, anyways?”, Tooth piped up bravely. Even in ferocity, she was breathtaking.  
The Nightmare King smiled at this, his teeth disgustingly sharp and gray. “If I told you why I wanted her so badly, that would just disintegrate half the fun. After all, I enjoy some mystery in my hunt”.  
My stomach twisted. Hunt. Because I was nothing but a pawn in a sick game of chess, an innocent deer being tracked by poachers, wasn’t I? I choked back the lump in my throat, the heaving sob threatening to escape my throat. A burning sensation pulsed through my spine directly between my shoulder blades. The dagger.  
Carefully sliding my arms out of my blouse, I felt the fabric fall about my waist as the frigid air stung the exposed wound. My waterfall of dark chestnut hair fell like a curtain over my chest. The assembly gasped at the sight of the large scab, the spearhead shape almost black and burning.  
“Rimsky Korsikov”, I heard North mumble, his eyes wide and staring at the mark.  
“See? It seems I’ve already left my proof of purchase on the girl”, he said proudly, turning to Jack and adding in a satisfied growl, “She belongs to me”.  
“Well, if you want her, you’re going to have to fight for her. You’re going to have get past me”, Jack growled back, his hand trembling with ferocity, not fear. Pitch’s scowl deepened for only a second, then suddenly relented a few paces.  
“Fine. Be that way. Just know that you can’t win, Jack. Your little broken doll belongs to me”. And with that, he disappeared, fading into the sky as a cloud of blackness. It wasn’t until I watched him leave that I realized how numb I was, trembling as I collapsed to me knees on the floor, wincing as the wound on my back burning like the flames of a summer fire. Without a word, Jack leant down and wrapped an arm around me, lifting me off the ground and carrying me up to my bedroom.  
The scar blazed even hotter in Jack’s hold, burying my face in his hoodie and biting down hard on my lip to suppress a scream. Gently, the spirit placed me on the edge of the mattress, delicately moving stray locks of hair over my shoulder to investigate my wound. My fingers grasped at the comforter with white knuckles as the pain increased with his proximity. Then, gingerly, he grazed the rough exterior of the scab with his cold finger, the pain reaching it’s peak as he did so. I yelped in pain as I leaned forward, his hand instantly recoiling in surprise.  
“I-I’m sorry, I just thought…I thought the cold might help numb the pain”, he murmured quietly. Guilt crossed his face, though it shouldn’t have, as I looked up at him with blurry eyes. “Here, lay down. You should rest”, he finally said after moments of silence, pulling back the covers as I sunk down on my side.  
“You never answered my question”, I mumbled as Jack turned to leave. Surprised at my voice, he turned to face me.  
“What?”  
“You never answered my question. Why are you so nice to me?”. His face was tinted with red once again as his eyes averted mine, grinning and shaking his head.  
“You don’t let anything get past you, do you?”, was all he said before looking me over once more, then departing from the room.  
I watched as he left, the pain in my back still thrumming wildly. A burning, pulsing ache. The melodic song of the Yeti’s work lulled me to sleep.

❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆

“Manda?”, a sweet little voice, the chime of an angel, wrestled me from slumber. Blinking my eyes open, Sophie’s adorable face came into view, studying my tired face past her choppy bangs.  
“Oh, Sophie. Hi sweetie”, I cooed with a smile as I sat up, pulling the covers up over my chest as I laid against the mass of pillows. Silently, the toddler struggled up onto my mattress, nestling herself in my lap, fitting perfectly into the dips and curves of my body. Smiling down at her, I reached over and covered her with a blanket as she giggled with joy. Sophie and I had always shared a sisterly bond ever since I began babysitting the Bennetts, the young girl taking an instant liking to me. Each night I’d babysit, she’d beg for one of my infamous tales about an imaginary fairy I created name Beck and her adventures with her best friend, a clumsy caterpillar named Sprout.  
Wrapping her tiny arms around me for security, Sophie looked up at me and, like I expected, begged for a fairytale. It was impossible to say no to her cherub face, her big green eyes full of hope.  
“Once upon a time, Beck was flying through the forest in search of her Sprout, who she found by the river munching on a big, green leaf”, I began, motioning with my hand to help illustrate. As I continued, Sophie listened with intent until she was on the verge of sleep.  
Just as I reached the end of my tale, Sophie’s eyes grew wide as she screamed with genuine fright at nothingness, curling herself up against my side. The room was suddenly frigidly cold, like an unsettling, deathly freeze. Slowly turning to look behind me, it only took the sight of two menacing golden eyes to send me into total survival mode.  
Pitch.


	8. 7

“Oh, what an adorable little assembly. What a good mother you’d make”, Pitch said slyly. In one fluid motion, I had scooped Sophie up, diving to the other end of the room and blocking her protectively. The wound on my back began furiously pulsing again. Anger crept through my veins.  
“What do you want?”, I said fiercely, my words almost escaping through my nose, my trademark of genuine anger. Pitch menacingly circled the room, stopping to toy with a crimson-laden ballerina pirouetting atop an ancient music box.  
“You see, my broken little doll”, he began, his voice a sly hiss. “You are much more valuable than take credit for. You have something within you I wish to possess. Something that could make you powerful beyond belief. Not that I’d reveal that characteristic to you, no. It’s much too soon for that. Fortunately”– he snaps the ballerina off her marble stand, disconnecting her from her wooden legs–“now I’m killing two birds with one stone”. Upon these last words, he disappeared into a mass of nothingness, though his deep, dark chuckle ricocheted off the walls, until he reappeared at the opposite corner of the room, Sophie shackled in his clutches squirming and writhing, her face streaked with tears.  
“Get away from her!”, I shouted, lunging for the Boogeyman. But he was too quick. His long fingers grasped my neck, jerking my head up to look at him.  
“No, no, no. We wouldn’t want to interfere with a carefully thought out plan, now, would we?”, he said in barely a whisper, forcing my gaze to meet his. His eyes were so deceiving, tainted with evil. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. I could feel his grip tightening, tendrils of inky sand curving their way up from my feet. No. I wasn’t going to back down. Taking a deep breath, I swung my leg back, gaining momentum and kicking him in the stomach. Lurching forward, he gave a small wince of pain, Sophie’s cage disintegrating as she fell back to meet the ground, frozen with fear.“Sophie, run!”, I urged, reaching for her. Pitch inhaled deeply, then rose back to his feet and caught Sophie by the arm with a whip of sand just before she could reach the exit. Again, I screamed for him not to hurt her. Surprisingly, his whip fell, his gaze turning to me with curiosity.  
“Don’t hurt her”, I pressed fiercely, breathlessly. My mind was running ragged. “Do whatever you want with me but don’t hurt Sophie or I swear to God I will do everything in my power to murder you whole”, I growled. I didn’t except to come across so vicious, nor was that my intent, though my mouth had other plans. It had been doing a lot of his own talking lately, I noticed. Pitch’s face turned to unexpected surprise. “Oh really? Anything I want with you, as long as I don’t hurt the brat? That is a dangerous promise, my broken little doll”, he said, toying with the broken ballerina. I felt myself nod.  
“Anything”


	9. 8

❅ ❄ ❆ Jack’s POV ❅ ❄ ❆  
Small feet trampled down the stairs, tripping over themselves in a fit of panic. Sophie’s face, stained with tears, came into view as she skidded into the room, muttering to herself with a distracted gaze as she did so. “Soph?”, Jamie asked cautiously as he knelt down to her level. Worry-stricken, I moved closer. “Sophie, what’s wrong?” Sophie just looked up at her big brother and, in mangled sentences, explained. “Amanda…scary…take…scream…help…”. Then she thudded to the ground as sobs overcame her. My stomach churned. Turning to the other Guardians, anger bubbling up inside me, we all knew what had happened. Furious, I opened the window and dove out into the fresh afternoon air.


	10. 9

❅ ❄ ❆ Amanda’s POV ❅ ❄ ❆  
Never had I ever felt so forbidden of freedom. Writhing in strong arrest, shackled to the wall, I felt the eyes of my captor look me over. My back burned with an infuriating pain that sent tears down my pale cheeks.  
“It’s no use struggling”, Pitch hissed. “You did promise you’d do anything as long as I didn’t hurt the girl. Are we still on that promise, my little China doll?”  
“I am NOT your China doll! And we’re getting very close to breaking it!”, I spat, iron digging into the delicate skin of my inner wrists. “What do you want with me, anyways?!”, I pressed.  
“I told you already. You have something very valuable, something that I want. And you should know, dear, that once I find something I want”– here he evaporated, then reappeared in front of me, lifting my chin up with a cold, slender hand– “I stop at nothing until I get it”. It wasn’t until then that I realized how horribly he smelled of smoke, like the viciously humid, smoky aroma of a theme park attraction. My stomach lurched.  
“Well, what is it that you want from me? I’m not as special as you’d like to believe”, I replied, trying with all my might not to let the terror settle in my veins. The entire room was a dark ruin of rubble and debris, gray and lifeless. I assume the place was once a kindly estate until it fell into cracked chaos and was overtaken by ill-ridden intentions. Hardly a ray of sunlight touched the remains.  
“Your center. It intrigues me”, he began. My center? What was he talking about? This was a concept I had never heard before. He continued– “Your passion, that breathtaking drive of yours. It captivates me, moves me. It could be very powerful if used correctly”.  
“Used correctly?”, I questioned. Reading my bewildered expression, he exaggerated his point further. “With a deep sense of passion like yours, you could be one of the most powerful legends in all of time. People would fear you like there’s no tomorrow. Fear us”. Us. He hissed the word with a pure satisfaction that sent a chill down my spine and a pulse of pain through my wound.  
“Us?”, I parrotted. Pitch floated closer, cupping my face in his hand.  
“Us. I’ve been tracking you for years, my broken little doll, and I’ve seen potential in you I’ve never witnessed in anyone else before. It’s like a magnet, drawing me closer and I can’t resist. You are destined to be my Nightmare Queen, to rule beside me, to govern all that is evil and fearful in the world. I know you know how, what with the copious effort you emit in all your endeavours. All you have to do”– he leans in, his chapped lips brushing against my ear– “is give in”.  
“No!”, I scream, jerking away from him with such force that I fall to the ground. “No! I refuse to give in to your petty requests!”. Pitch’s look of pleasure soon turned to a look of disdain.  
His eyes grew cold as stone as he looked me, turning to leave. “Fine. Think what you must. But I’ll enjoy seeing your opinion change as you rot over time like I’ll leave you to do!”. And without another word, he disappeared.  
I was alone. It was cold and dark and unpleasant. This dungeon’s odor seeped through my nose like a poison gas, choking me and sending waves of anxiety across my body. After seemingly hours of squirming in the shackle’s grip, I surrendered to their strong grasp, their base rooted into the wall. There was nothing left to do but sink down against the jagged stone wall, the wound on my back pulsing with ignited fury, and cry. I let the sobs overtake me until I couldn’t breathe, eventually tucking my head between my knees in prayer that I didn’t throw up. I did.  
So this was my fate? Left to die alone trapped in a prison cell? So it was. I would rather die than take that depraved villain as a husband. Then again, if it was my only chance at freedom…  
No. No, I refused to let the promises of that crooked blackguard alter my opinion. If I didn’t have my principles, what did I have? Jack’s image cleared into my brain. His bright smile, his messy white hair. The frost collecting around his hoodie. His scent. His eyes. His beautiful, lively, fantastic blue eyes. A sharp pain stabbed my chest, straight through to the scar in my back.  
I was never going to see Jack again. Ever. I was going to be trapped here, no light, for eternity until I turned to dust (and even then, since I was sure this was hell that I had been plunged into), never seeing him again. How he rubbed the back of his neck when he was embarassed, his spontaneity and hunger for fun. How gentle and caring he was. Another sharp pain stabbed me all the way through.  
He still never answered my question.  
❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆  
Hours passed. I wasn’t sure if it was night or day anymore. Sleep chased me away, threatening me with nightmares each time I dozed off. A pair of golden eyes, not as hard or vivid, were watching me within the shadows. I felt them eyeing me, an anxious thrill. A strange sensation, different than before, filled the scar on my back. Magnetism.  
Surrendering to the urge to turn around, I saw a figure loom before me. Locks of ebony hair fell about her, split-ends reaching to her thin waist. Her figure was full of dips and curves, an hourglass. The thick, crimson fabric of her shirt was torn, streaked rips crossing it’s edges. Her toned legs were visible through the sheer fabric of her slitted skirt. Her topaz eyes looked before with an inexplainable hatred.   
With a jewel-encrusted dagger strongly gripped in her one hand, she knelt down to investigate my face before her free hand slapped me across the cheek, hard. I let out a yelp of pain as my cheek stung red with the force, my eyes watering.  
“You’re too weak”, she muttered to herself, rising back up to her full height. Despite my position, I could tell that she was still quite tall. I said nothing but my expression must have read that I was puzzled by her judgement. “You think you’re so special, don’t you? Being of such great value?”, she finally said. I was, again, speechless. “I don’t see what that imbustle sees in you. He’s right, you’re nothing but a useleess, broken China doll, silent and delicate and full of innocence. You don’t stand a chance”. Giving me one last brooding sneer, she forcefully launched her dagger down into a sandy patch between two old, gray stones and stamped off, her bare and pale blistered feet pounding against the ground with more force than expected.  
❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆  
Lost in my daydreams, I was suddenly interrupted by a strange stirring about the darkness. Anxiety once again pulsed through me, fear that the vicious woman from my nightmare would once again return. Even worse. Pitch.  
“Are we ready to commit yet or do we need to increase the fear a bit more?”, he voice boomed from the shadows. Slowly, ever so slowly, he faded into view. I refused to answer. “Torture it is, then”, he concluded. Reappearing behind me, he snatched me by the forearms and twisted me around to face him, tightening his grip as tendrils of black sand sprouted from the stony ground and weaved their way up around me like before.  
“If you refuse to cooperate manually, I’ll just have to convince you by force. Choose your last words carefully”, he snarled. The vines of sand’s grip tightened, constricting my body from moving, breathing, living. My vision began clouding, flashbacks quickly pulsing through my brain. Drills and saws from dad’s workshop, the sugary aroma of fresh-baked cookies, dance parties with my cousin Liz, falling beneath the surface of the pool that summer when shadowy fingers reached to pull me further down. But then there was that reassuring cool, that comfort enveloping me, Jack’s gaze and kind words keeping me conscious until sunlight washed over me and I could breathe once again. All of that would vanish in just a matter of seconds, Pitch’s gaze hypnotizing me as I sank further and further into the black abyss…


	11. 10

Flash.  
Just one flash is all it took. Blackness, ominous blackness, ate away at my vision from all sides, obstructing my view of anything but Pitch’s dark eyes, overflowing with disgusting pride. Then… flash.  
A great burst of white light interrupted, just when I was beginning to take comfort in the blanket of death. Then Pitch’s eyes disappeared. My shackle’s grips were loosened. My body went flying. Surely this must be heaven.  
Wham. My figure jammed into an ancient stone pillar before thudding to the dense ground with a sickening crack. Oxygen was a foreign substance. Everything was all echo and blur.  
“Get away from her!”, a low voice growled fiercely. My back rang with pain. Gasping for air, I blinked to refocus my vision and forced my head up from the ground. A warm sensation tingled down from my left temple.  
A mass of shadow rose from it’s place on the stone ground, striding forward to greet his visitors. Jack. With a deep grimace on his face, he stared up at the Boogeyman as he held back a snarl, his staff nearly pure white in his infuriated grip.  
“My, my, what a wonderful greeting. I should’ve straightened up”, he mocked, delicately conjuring up a bucking black horse of sand with his nimble fingers.  
“What did you do to her?”, Jack gnarled. If North’s hand hadn’t been firmly planted upon my guardian’s shoulder, the winter spirit surely would’ve slaughtered the Nightmare King whole right then and there.  
Toying with his ebony stallion, Pitch bluntly replied, “Nothing unexpected. Just a quick little conversion. Nothing to be too worried about”. Jack’s face grew contorted as he barrelled toward him, another burst of light spouting from his staff. Pitch disappeared before he could be shattered by the blow. Just then a pair of unforgiving, calloused hands clasped me by the neck, lifting me up like a prized trophy.  
“You didn’t think it’d be so easy, did you? To get back your precious human?”, the raspy, seductive voice questioned. All eyes were on us.  
“Let her go”, Jack demanded as calmly as he could, though I could see the pain in his eyes. Small pops of color spotted my now superbly clear vision. I could feel my lungs crushing with thirst, trembling fingers grasping for release at the grip about my throat. The demonic woman began twirling a lock of my tangled chestnut hair about her long, skeletal finger, simply replying, “Umm…how about, no”. With a wave of her hand, a tidal wave of wind sent Jack flying back against the wall with a thud. A stab of pain went through the wound in my back, urged to scream had I been breathing. With a smirk, the demonic woman turned to me, her deep red lips whispering into my ear “Say your goodbyes to your precious lover” before she whipped a great gust of wind about us, an ocean of blackness surrounding us. Jack’s face was the last thing I saw.


	12. 11

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take”  
Tooth bit her bottom lip as the winter spirit regrouped, gripping his staff tightly. “For the last time, let her go”, he commanded, the demonic woman’s grip tightening about my neck. Pitch smirked.  
“No. See, for years I’ve been searching, scouring, for the perfect young girl to accompany me as my Nightmare Queen. I had found one already, but she perished from too much interference. Now that I’ve found the perfect substitute, there’s no way I’m letting her go. That is, of course, Jack, if you’d rather make a deal”. A sly, sickening grin spread across Pitch’s face, Jack growing curious. He knew all too well what the Boogeyman wanted from him. With a defeated sigh, Jack looked down at the ground.  
“Alright. Take me instead”  
The Guardians gasped in horror at their mate’s decision, Tooth falling to her knees, her hands cupped over her mouth and her eyes wide. As my vision began blurring and fading out, I felt sudden, sweet relief and my body connected with the stone floor, Jack rushing to my side with teary eyes and pulling me into his lap. “A-are you okay?”, he asked, brushing stray tangles of hair from my face. Gasping for air, I nodded, wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my face into the cool, refreshing fabric of his hoodie. With each desperate inhale I soaked up his scent, my fingers, new with feeling, running through his hair, across the frost patterns on his hoodie, my eyes shut tight until a whip of nightmare sand stole my Guardian away from me.  
“Say your last goodbyes, broken little China doll”, Pitch said slyly, holding his new recruit in arrest with his nightmare sand. With teary eyes, I whipped my head up to catch one last quick glimpse of Jack before Pitch and his assistant disappeared with him in a cloud of black sand.  
“N-no…no!”, I shouted to myself, my eyes transfixed on where the trio once stood and shaking my head. A broad, strong hand gently landed on my shoulder. Hysterics began breaking through. He took my place. He gave up himself to let me live. I couldn’t wrap my brain around the concept once it occurred, shrieking with tears as I stumbled to try and find some magical trap door or lever that could send me to wherever Pitch took Jack.  
Nothing.  
It took fifteen grueling minutes for North to scoop me up in his strong arms and carry me away, kicking and screaming, my sight blurry with tears.  
Why was Jack so stupid? Why would he do such a thing? Why would he give up himself in place of me? The rest of the night was charged with a sickeningly depressed energy.  
I may never see Jack again.  
My guardian.  
❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆  
The grandfather clock residing in North’s workshop chimed thrice, the sky inky black in the dead of night. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. All I could think about was that one last glimpse of him…  
My mind still couldn’t comprehend why he would do something so stupid. I can take care of myself, I can fight back all by myself…can’t I? I shook away the ponderings. My loneliness was suddenly disrupted by the quiet whirring of wings, my head whipping around to see Tooth fluttering towards me with an unreadable expression on her face. I was finding that all her expressions were unreadable to me, or at least the ones I saw. She didn’t say a word until she made herself comfortable across from me, kneeling and folding her wings delicately down behind her. Her bottom lip was red from the pressure her teeth made on the skin, nearly puncturing it. Her violet eyes were glossed over with impending tears.  
“This is all your fault”, she said quietly, refusing to look at me. I snapped my head up at her comment, so simple and small. “If you hadn’t intruded on our lives, none of this would have ever happened”. I opened my mouth to speak but she cut me off, finally turning to face me. Nothing but pain painted her flawless face. “Why? Why did you have to ruin the balance?”  
I was speechless. “I-I…I didn’t mean to…”, I murmured with wide eyes, my knees drawn up to my chest. Tears began running down the fairy’s face, her lip turning even redder as she attempted to hold back her sobs.  
“I love him. And now I may never see him again”, she said quietly. “He means everything to me”.  
A pang of pain hit me all over, like a hypothetical knife impaling my entire body. The scar on my back rang with pain, my lungs hardly functioning, my limbs going numb. I couldn’t look at her any longer. I fought back the urge to cry. “I know…I can never forgive myself for this”.  
“I can never forgive you for this, either. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The way he acts around you. He’s fascinated by you”, Tooth responded with a sour tone. She didn’t even bother to stop herself from crying now. I looked up at her in disbelief. “Don’t act like you don’t see it. Amanda, he’s in love with you. He has been since you were a kid.” “Th-that’s impossible…we’ve only known each other for…that just…no!”, I countered, trying to comprehend everything she was saying. Sure, I knew he was friendly towards me and protective, but I never knew how deeply he felt. Unless Tooth was just exaggerating. Billions of thoughts bounced about in my mind.  
Tooth ran her delicate fingers over the feathers on her thighs, smoothing out the sparkling blue tones, like an ocean surrounding her body. “Jack is a very passionate person. He’d do anything to save the ones he loves. That’s how he got to be the way he is. That’s how he became Jack Frost in the first place, because he was so selfless”. Tooth took my look of curiosity as a cue to reveal his story. “When Jack was seventeen, him and his younger sister ventured out onto the lake near his house to go ice skating. He fell through some thin ice to save her and drowned. The Man in Moon saw everything and chose him to be a Guardian for his act of selfless devotion towards his sister and transformed him into Jack Frost. Ever since he found out two years ago, he’s been even more protective than before. Especially with those he loves. And you, he loves most. When you weren’t around, you were all he was talking about. Planning out battle strategies to keep you safe, figuring out places where you could hide, anything to keep out of Pitch’s hands. That’s why he gave himself up to spare you”.  
I couldn’t breathe. Tooth’s words had to be true, tears running down her face as she explained everything. Because you can doubt something all you want as long as it’s thought bouncing in your head, but once you truly, officially speak it out loud, then it becomes real. And Tooth’s emotions for were more real than ever. She truly, undoubtedly loved Jack with all her heart. “Am I…am I the first?”, I questioned. Tooth shook her head.  
“No. He was in love once before, when he was human…her name was Rosaline. I remember her well from when she was younger. She was a lot like you, personality wise. She was motherly and fun-loving and creative. She had pale blonde hair and these gorgeous green eyes full of hope and love. She was the daughter of a widowed seamstress, very good friends with Jack’s mother. Jack and Rosaline always exchanged blushed glances but never confessed their love for one another until a winter potluck in their village. Two days later, Jack had died. Rosaline was terrified. Jack was the first boy she ever loved, even if it hadn’t escalated to anything. Jack can see Rosaline in you. That’s why he’s so protective of you. He doesn’t want to lose a love again like he did Rose”. Tooth heaved a sigh, turning to face the window where the moonlight reflected off her tear-stained cheeks. “I’m jealous because you have everything I’ve ever wanted from him. Everything and more”.  
I bit my bottom lip, gasping for air, trying hard to take in everything the fairy was telling me. “I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean to…I mean I…I’m so, so sorry…if it…if it makes you feel any better, I think you and Jack make more sense than I ever will”. Tooth turned to me with a surprised expression at my tiny statement, rising from her spot and turning to leave.  
“I better go help prepare for Jack’s memorial…knowing the rest of them, they’ll want to get it over with just as much as I will”, was all she said, not even turning back to face me as she sullenly fluttered away. Leaning my head against the window, I stared out at the blank, winter wilderness which laid before me. Miles and miles of nothing but snow and ice. My mind flashed back to that moment out on the balcony, curled up in a blanket as Jack perched himself on the fence. He was about to answer all of my questions until Tooth interrupted us with that grave announcement. Well, all my questions had been answered. Just not from who I wanted to hear them from. With wet, tired eyes, I stared out at the black abyss before me, losing myself in my thoughts, and cried.  
❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆  
“I thought I might find you here”, a deep Russian voice startled me from behind. Whipping around to face him, I saw a grave look upon his face. A look that signalled that the library I was standing in, his library, had much more meaning to it.  
“How did you know?”, I questioned, putting one of the books back upon the shelf and seating myself in a great armchair nearby.  
“I can tell you are a lover of books”, North replied, seating himself in the armchair across of me. I shrugged with an all-knowing smile. Of course he knew I loved books. He was Santa, after all. He knew everything about everyone. Silence fell upon us for a moment as we both stared up at the beauty that was the library.  
The shelves reached miles high, filled with beloved treasures, texts that had been centuries old. The spacing between shelf units were lined with gorgeous golden engravings of bookworms and spirits, swirling vines and curved swords. And in the middle of the room, perched upon a high shelf encased with glass, sat a beautiful old book, thick and large, and of the most gorgeous jade green. North must’ve seen my eyes spy it for he stood from his chair and began towards it.  
“You’re probably wondering why this particular book is so special, yes?”. I nodded in response, rising and following him curiously. From his pocket he pulled a small brass key, in which he injected into the lock and carefully removed the heavy novel. Placing it on the table, he commanded me to open it and see for myself. Hesitantly, I reached out and opened the book. The tender, aged pages flipped themselves with the papery creak of something very old and delicate, until it stopped upon a page marked with a dull gold ribbon that caught my attention and made North release a sad sigh.  
At the top of the page, in delicately clear handwriting were the words “The Beginning”, and beneath that was the delicate sketch of a young girl, about eleven she seemed. Her skin looked as if it was made of the finest porcelain, clear and smooth. Auburn curls fell about her face and covered one of her sparkling gray eyes. Despite the book’s old age, the depiction seemed so fresh. And even more surprising, it began to live. The girl began moving and talking as if she was a breathing human alive and well living inside the pages of the book. She began telling a story in a beautifully clear voice, a story involving a wizard and the Boogeyman and a robot.  
“Who is that?”, I asked, turning to North’s composed face.  
“That is Katherine, a dear friend of mine”, he said sadly. “Remember when Pitch had explained of how he had found a girl fit for the role of his Nightmare Queen but she…perished due to interferences?”. I nodded to show I remembered. North moved his eyes to the young girl’s animation. Suddenly comprehending, I let out a gasp of shock. “You mean she…?” North just nodded.  
“It was such a battle, she put up such a fight. Pitch had been after her for years before the fight finally ended. She was the Guardian of Storytelling, known as Mother Goose. Pitch was so desperate for her to side with him but, being a strong foundling she fought back fiercely. She changed me from a carefree bandit to who I am today. She helped me find my center. I owe her so much. I see her in you”, North explained, struck with emotion as he watched the girl’s animation run through. “This is the first time I’ve brought the book out since her death”.  
Since her death. The words made me want to cry. The fact that she had passed when she was so young. She had such a great life ahead of her, so many more years to cherish and go adventuring. North then turned to me, holding me gently by my shoulders and looking in my eyes.  
“Promise me this. Even if it’s the only promise of mine you ever make. Promise me you’ll never lose your ferocity, your sense of adventure. Promise me you’ll live for Katherine. Promise me you’ll let her legacy live on, continue her stories and sketches. I know you can. I see so much of her potential infiltrated in you. Just promise me this one thing.” Looking up into North’s eyes, I saw nothing but genuine desperation. Turning for a moment to look at the sketchy cartoon of the young girl in the book, I sighed for her. Then, turning to look back up into North’s bright blue eyes, I gave him my response.  
“I promise”.  
❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆ ❅ ❄ ❆  
Jack’s POV  
Darkness. It’s the first thing I remember. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t think. The very thing that popped into my mind was that last image of Amanda, her face desperate and terrified. My stomach flipped at the thought of it. Crumpled on a hard stone floor, I reached out in search of my staff, rising from my place to try and find any sort of sign as to where I was. Reaching out, I felt nothing but bars. Trapped.  
“Dammit”, I cussed under my breath, searching the floor for my staff in hopes that it was still with me. A dark, raspy chuckle erupted from behind me. “Show yourself!”, I shouted. From the shadows emerged the same girl who had held Amanda by the neck. Pitch’s companion. She had a discomforting air about her, as I had expected from her. Her hair was as dark as the shadows, reaching down to her waist and into her face. Her facial features were sharp and brooding, two golden eyes glinting in the darkness past dark eyeliner.  
“You know, Jack, some say the world will end in fire. Others say in ice”, she chanted in a raspy, seductive voice. Moving closer, she sexually laced her long fingers between the bars of my cage. “But what I’ve tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire. You know what fire does to ice, don’t you, Jack?”. As she began running her fingers through the bars to toy with the laces of my hoodie, a tiny flame began weaving between her fingers, the heat sending an uncomfortable sensation through me.  
Pushing myself away, I shouted at her, “No! Stop it! What did you do with her?”  
“Her?”, the girl questioned sourly. “Oh, you mean the human? Don’t you remember, Jack? She ran off with the Guardians when you disappeared. You don’t remember things very well do you?”. My mind suddenly flashed back to when Amanda and I first met, when this adventure began. This beautiful nightmare.  
“Who are you? Where did you come from? And why did you just so happen to choose me as your little victim to your immature game?”. “I already told you, my name is Jack Frost. You don’t seem to remember things very well, do you?”.  
A pang of pain ran through me at the memory. I may never see her again. Scowling at the demonic woman on the other side of the bars, I pressed on. “Who are you, anyways?”  
She smirked, staring disinterested at the flame dancing between her fingers. “Christine. Pitch’s advocate. I do all his dirty work and help him make everyone else’s life harder. And I quite enjoy the charade, actually”. Zapping the flame away, she turned back to face me. “And you. Why, we have quite the surprise in store for you”.  
The way she said those words, the way she looked into my eyes. A warm chill ran through me like that of when unsuspecting people walk right through me. Flanking her on her one side was Pitch, stepping in front of her and smiling sickeningly down at me.  
“You’ve made quite the bargain, Jack. I’d say you’re nothing but a soul wandering the earth, but you don’t even have that anymore now, do you?”, the Boogeyman said slyly. Confusion spread across my face.  
As both Pitch and Christine moved aside, a dark form emerged from the shadows between her and Pitch. As it materialized, I recognized it as myself, though different. His ebony hair fell about his face and stuck up in all directions, his eyes glinting gold in the darkness. He was dressed in black from his head to his bare feet and in his hands was none other than my staff, charged with the intimidating dark electricity of cold-blooded fear. Pitch’s voice echoed in my mind.  
What goes together better than cold and dark?  
“Jack, meet Jack”.


End file.
